The Amateur Cracksman Read online

  GENTLEMEN AND PLAYERS

  Old Raffles may or may not have been an exceptional criminal, but as acricketer I dare swear he was unique. Himself a dangerous bat, abrilliant field, and perhaps the very finest slow bowler of his decade,he took incredibly little interest in the game at large. He never wentup to Lord's without his cricket-bag, or showed the slightest interestin the result of a match in which he was not himself engaged. Nor wasthis mere hateful egotism on his part. He professed to have lost allenthusiasm for the game, and to keep it up only from the very lowestmotives.

  "Cricket," said Raffles, "like everything else, is good enough sportuntil you discover a better. As a source of excitement it isn't in itwith other things you wot of, Bunny, and the involuntary comparisonbecomes a bore. What's the satisfaction of taking a man's wicket whenyou want his spoons? Still, if you can bowl a bit your low cunningwon't get rusty, and always looking for the weak spot's just the kindof mental exercise one wants. Yes, perhaps there's some affinitybetween the two things after all. But I'd chuck up cricket to-morrow,Bunny, if it wasn't for the glorious protection it affords a person ofmy proclivities."

  "How so?" said I. "It brings you before the public, I should havethought, far more than is either safe or wise."

  "My dear Bunny, that's exactly where you make a mistake. To followCrime with reasonable impunity you simply MUST have a parallel,ostensible career--the more public the better. The principle isobvious. Mr. Peace, of pious memory, disarmed suspicion by acquiring alocal reputation for playing the fiddle and taming animals, and it's myprofound conviction that Jack the Ripper was a really eminent publicman, whose speeches were very likely reported alongside his atrocities.Fill the bill in some prominent part, and you'll never be suspected ofdoubling it with another of equal prominence. That's why I want you tocultivate journalism, my boy, and sign all you can. And it's the oneand only reason why I don't burn my bats for firewood."

  Nevertheless, when he did play there was no keener performer on thefield, nor one more anxious to do well for his side. I remember how hewent to the nets, before the first match of the season, with his pocketfull of sovereigns, which he put on the stumps instead of bails. Itwas a sight to see the professionals bowling like demons for the hardcash, for whenever a stump was hit a pound was tossed to the bowler andanother balanced in its stead, while one man took #3 with a ball thatspreadeagled the wicket. Raffles's practice cost him either eight ornine sovereigns; but he had absolutely first-class bowling all thetime; and he made fifty-seven runs next day.

  It became my pleasure to accompany him to all his matches, to watchevery ball he bowled, or played, or fielded, and to sit chatting withhim in the pavilion when he was doing none of these three things. Youmight have seen us there, side by side, during the greater part of theGentlemen's first innings against the Players (who had lost the toss)on the second Monday in July. We were to be seen, but not heard, forRaffles had failed to score, and was uncommonly cross for a player whocared so little for the game. Merely taciturn with me, he waspositively rude to more than one member who wanted to know how it hadhappened, or who ventured to commiserate him on his luck; there he sat,with a straw hat tilted over his nose and a cigarette stuck betweenlips that curled disagreeably at every advance. I was therefore muchsurprised when a young fellow of the exquisite type came and squeezedhimself in between us, and met with a perfectly civil reception despitethe liberty. I did not know the boy by sight, nor did Rafflesintroduce us; but their conversation proclaimed at once a slightness ofacquaintanceship and a license on the lad's part which combined topuzzle me. Mystification reached its height when Raffles was informedthat the other's father was anxious to meet him, and he instantlyconsented to gratify that whim.

  "He's in the Ladies' Enclosure. Will you come round now?"

  "With pleasure," says Raffles. "Keep a place for me, Bunny."

  And they were gone.

  "Young Crowley," said some voice further back. "Last year's HarrowEleven."

  "I remember him. Worst man in the team."

  "Keen cricketer, however. Stopped till he was twenty to get hiscolors. Governor made him. Keen breed. Oh, pretty, sir! Verypretty!"

  The game was boring me. I only came to see old Raffles perform. SoonI was looking wistfully for his return, and at length I saw himbeckoning me from the palings to the right.

  "Want to introduce you to old Amersteth," he whispered, when I joinedhim. "They've a cricket week next month, when this boy Crowley comesof age, and we've both got to go down and play."

  "Both!" I echoed. "But I'm no cricketer!"

  "Shut up," says Raffles. "Leave that to me. I've been lying for allI'm worth," he added sepulchrally as we reached the bottom of thesteps. "I trust to you not to give the show away."

  There was a gleam in his eye that I knew well enough elsewhere, but wasunprepared for in those healthy, sane surroundings; and it was withvery definite misgivings and surmises that I followed the Zingariblazer through the vast flower-bed of hats and bonnets that bloomedbeneath the ladies' awning.

  Lord Amersteth was a fine-looking man with a short mustache and adouble chin. He received me with much dry courtesy, through which,however, it was not difficult to read a less flattering tale. I wasaccepted as the inevitable appendage of the invaluable Raffles, withwhom I felt deeply incensed as I made my bow.

  "I have been bold enough," said Lord Amersteth, "to ask one of theGentlemen of England to come down and play some rustic cricket for usnext month. He is kind enough to say that he would have liked nothingbetter, but for this little fishing expedition of yours, Mr.-----,Mr.-----," and Lord Amersteth succeeded in remembering my name.

  It was, of course, the first I had ever heard of that fishingexpedition, but I made haste to say that it could easily, and shouldcertainly, be put off. Raffles gleamed approval through his eyelashes.Lord Amersteth bowed and shrugged.

  "You're very good, I'm sure," said he. "But I understand you're acricketer yourself?"

  "He was one at school," said Raffles, with infamous readiness.

  "Not a real cricketer," I was stammering meanwhile.

  "In the eleven?" said Lord Amersteth.

  "I'm afraid not," said I.

  "But only just out of it," declared Raffles, to my horror.

  "Well, well, we can't all play for the Gentlemen," said Lord Amerstethslyly. "My son Crowley only just scraped into the eleven at Harrow,and HE'S going to play. I may even come in myself at a pinch; so youwon't be the only duffer, if you are one, and I shall be very glad ifyou will come down and help us too. You shall flog a stream beforebreakfast and after dinner, if you like."

  "I should be very proud," I was beginning, as the mere prelude toresolute excuses; but the eye of Raffles opened wide upon me; and Ihesitated weakly, to be duly lost.

  "Then that's settled," said Lord Amersteth, with the slightestsuspicion of grimness. "It's to be a little week, you know, when myson comes of age. We play the Free Foresters, the DorsetshireGentlemen, and probably some local lot as well. But Mr. Raffles willtell you all about it, and Crowley shall write. Another wicket! ByJove, they're all out! Then I rely on you both." And, with a littlenod, Lord Amersteth rose and sidled to the gangway.

  Raffles rose also, but I caught the sleeve of his blazer.

  "What are you thinking of?" I whispered savagely. "I was nowhere nearthe eleven. I'm no sort of cricketer. I shall have to get out ofthis!"

  "Not you," he whispered back. "You needn't play, but come you must.If you wait for me after half-past six I'll tell you why."

  But I could guess the reason; and I am ashamed to say that it revoltedme much less than did the notion of making a public fool of myself on acricket-field. My gorge rose at this as it no longer rose at crime,and it was in no tranquil humor that I strolled about the ground whileRaffles disappeared in the pavilion. Nor was my annoyance lessened bya little meeting I witnessed between young Crowley and his father, whoshrugged as he stopped and stooped to convey
some information whichmade the young man look a little blank. It may have been pureself-consciousness on my part, but I could have sworn that the troublewas their inability to secure the great Raffles without hisinsignificant friend.

  Then the bell rang, and I climbed to the top of the pavilion to watchRaffles bowl. No subtleties are lost up there; and if ever a bowlerwas full of them, it was A. J. Raffles on this day, as, indeed, all thecricket world remembers. One had not to be a cricketer oneself toappreciate his perfect command of pitch and break, his beautifully easyaction, which never varied with the varying pace, his great ball on theleg-stump--his dropping head-ball--in a word, the infinite ingenuity ofthat versatile attack. It was no mere exhibition of athletic prowess,it was an intellectual treat, and one with a special significance in myeyes. I saw the "affinity between the two things," saw it in thatafternoon's tireless warfare against the flower of professionalcricket. It was not that Raffles took many wickets for few runs; hewas too fine a bowler to mind being hit; and time was short, and thewicket good. What I admired, and what I remember, was the combinationof resource and cunning, of patience and precision, of head-work andhandiwork, which made every over an artistic whole. It was all socharacteristic of that other Raffles whom I alone knew!

  "I felt like bowling this afternoon," he told me later in the hansom."With a pitch to help me, I'd have done something big; as it is, threefor forty-one, out of the four that fell, isn't so bad for a slowbowler on a plumb wicket against those fellows. But I felt venomous!Nothing riles me more than being asked about for my cricket as though Iwere a pro. myself."

  "Then why on earth go?"

  "To punish them, and--because we shall be jolly hard up, Bunny, beforethe season's over!"

  "Ah!" said I. "I thought it was that."

  "Of course, it was! It seems they're going to have the very devil of aweek of it--balls--dinner parties--swagger house party--generaljunketings--and obviously a houseful of diamonds as well. Diamondsgalore! As a general rule nothing would induce me to abuse my positionas a guest. I've never done it, Bunny. But in this case we're engagedlike the waiters and the band, and by heaven we'll take our toll!Let's have a quiet dinner somewhere and talk it over."

  "It seems rather a vulgar sort of theft," I could not help saying; andto this, my single protest, Raffles instantly assented.

  "It is a vulgar sort," said he; "but I can't help that. We're gettingvulgarly hard up again, and there's an end on 't. Besides, thesepeople deserve it, and can afford it. And don't you run away with theidea that all will be plain sailing; nothing will be easier thangetting some stuff, and nothing harder than avoiding all suspicion, as,of course, we must. We may come away with no more than a good workingplan of the premises. Who knows? In any case there's weeks ofthinking in it for you and me."

  But with those weeks I will not weary you further than by remarkingthat the "thinking," was done entirely by Raffles, who did not alwaystrouble to communicate his thoughts to me. His reticence, however, wasno longer an irritant. I began to accept it as a necessary conventionof these little enterprises. And, after our last adventure of thekind, more especially after its denouement, my trust in Raffles wasmuch too solid to be shaken by a want of trust in me, which I stillbelieve to have been more the instinct of the criminal than thejudgment of the man.

  It was on Monday, the tenth of August, that we were due at MilchesterAbbey, Dorset; and the beginning of the month found us cruising aboutthat very county, with fly-rods actually in our hands. The idea wasthat we should acquire at once a local reputation as decent fishermen,and some knowledge of the countryside, with a view to further and moredeliberate operations in the event of an unprofitable week. There wasanother idea which Raffles kept to himself until he had got me downthere. Then one day he produced a cricket-ball in a meadow we werecrossing, and threw me catches for an hour together. More hours hespent in bowling to me on the nearest green; and, if I was never acricketer, at least I came nearer to being one, by the end of thatweek, than ever before or since.

  Incident began early on the Monday. We had sallied forth from adesolate little junction within quite a few miles of Milchester, hadbeen caught in a shower, had run for shelter to a wayside inn. Aflorid, overdressed man was drinking in the parlor, and I could havesworn it was at the sight of him that Raffles recoiled on thethreshold, and afterwards insisted on returning to the station throughthe rain. He assured me, however, that the odor of stale ale hadalmost knocked him down. And I had to make what I could of hisspeculative, downcast eyes and knitted brows.

  Milchester Abbey is a gray, quadrangular pile, deep-set in rich woodycountry, and twinkling with triple rows of quaint windows, every one ofwhich seemed alight as we drove up just in time to dress for dinner.The carriage had whirled us under I know not how many triumphal archesin process of construction, and past the tents and flag-poles of ajuicy-looking cricket-field, on which Raffles undertook to bowl up tohis reputation. But the chief signs of festival were within, where wefound an enormous house-party assembled, including more persons ofpomp, majesty, and dominion than I had ever encountered in one roombefore. I confess I felt overpowered. Our errand and my own presencescombined to rob me of an address upon which I have sometimes plumedmyself; and I have a grim recollection of my nervous relief when dinnerwas at last announced. I little knew what an ordeal it was to prove.

  I had taken in a much less formidable young lady than might have fallento my lot. Indeed I began by blessing my good fortune in this respect.Miss Melhuish was merely the rector's daughter, and she had only beenasked to make an even number. She informed me of both facts before thesoup reached us, and her subsequent conversation was characterized bythe same engaging candor. It exposed what was little short of a maniafor imparting information. I had simply to listen, to nod, and to bethankful.

  When I confessed to knowing very few of those present, even by sight,my entertaining companion proceeded to tell me who everybody was,beginning on my left and working conscientiously round to her right.This lasted quite a long time, and really interested me; but a greatdeal that followed did not, and, obviously to recapture my unworthyattention, Miss Melhuish suddenly asked me, in a sensational whisper,whether I could keep a secret.

  I said I thought I might, whereupon another question followed, in stilllower and more thrilling accents:

  "Are you afraid of burglars?"

  Burglars! I was roused at last. The word stabbed me. I repeated itin horrified query.

  "So I've found something to interest you at last!" said Miss Melhuish,in naive triumph. "Yes--burglars! But don't speak so loud. It'ssupposed to be kept a great secret. I really oughtn't to tell you atall!"

  "But what is there to tell?" I whispered with satisfactory impatience.

  "You promise not to speak of it?"

  "Of course!"

  "Well, then, there are burglars in the neighborhood."

  "Have they committed any robberies?"

  "Not yet."

  "Then how do you know?"

  "They've been seen. In the district. Two well-known London thieves!"

  Two! I looked at Raffles. I had done so often during the evening,envying him his high spirits, his iron nerve, his buoyant wit, hisperfect ease and self-possession. But now I pitied him; through all myown terror and consternation, I pitied him as he sat eating anddrinking, and laughing and talking, without a cloud of fear or ofembarrassment on his handsome, taking, daredevil face. I caught up mychampagne and emptied the glass.

  "Who has seen them?" I then asked calmly.

  "A detective. They were traced down from town a few days ago. Theyare believed to have designs on the Abbey!"

  "But why aren't they run in?"

  "Exactly what I asked papa on the way here this evening; he says thereis no warrant out against the men at present, and all that can be doneis to watch their movements."

  "Oh! so they are being watched?"

  "Yes, by a detective who is down here on purpose. And I h
eard LordAmersteth tell papa that they had been seen this afternoon at WarbeckJunction!"

  The very place where Raffles and I had been caught in the rain! Ourstampede from the inn was now explained; on the other hand, I was nolonger to be taken by surprise by anything that my companion might haveto tell me; and I succeeded in looking her in the face with a smile.

  "This is really quite exciting, Miss Melhuish," said I. "May I ask howyou come to know so much about it?"

  "It's papa," was the confidential reply. "Lord Amersteth consultedhim, and he consulted me. But for goodness' sake don't let it getabout! I can't think WHAT tempted me to tell you!"

  "You may trust me, Miss Melhuish. But--aren't you frightened?"

  Miss Melhuish giggled.

  "Not a bit! They won't come to the rectory. There's nothing for themthere. But look round the table: look at the diamonds: look at oldLady Melrose's necklace alone!"

  The Dowager Marchioness of Melrose was one of the few persons whom ithad been unnecessary to point out to me. She sat on Lord Amersteth'sright, flourishing her ear-trumpet, and drinking champagne with herusual notorious freedom, as dissipated and kindly a dame as the worldhas ever seen. It was a necklace of diamonds and sapphires that roseand fell about her ample neck.

  "They say it's worth five thousand pounds at least," continued mycompanion. "Lady Margaret told me so this morning (that's LadyMargaret next your Mr. Raffles, you know); and the old dear WILL wearthem every night. Think what a haul they would be! No; we don't feelin immediate danger at the rectory."

  When the ladies rose, Miss Melhuish bound me to fresh vows of secrecy;and left me, I should think, with some remorse for her indiscretion,but more satisfaction at the importance which it had undoubtedly givenher in my eyes. The opinion may smack of vanity, though, in reality,the very springs of conversation reside in that same human, universalitch to thrill the auditor. The peculiarity of Miss Melhuish was thatshe must be thrilling at all costs. And thrilling she had surely been.

  I spare you my feelings of the next two hours. I tried hard to get aword with Raffles, but again and again I failed. In the dining-room heand Crowley lit their cigarettes with the same match, and had theirheads together all the time. In the drawing-room I had themortification of hearing him talk interminable nonsense into theear-trumpet of Lady Melrose, whom he knew in town. Lastly, in thebilliard-room, they had a great and lengthy pool, while I sat aloof andchafed more than ever in the company of a very serious Scotchman, whohad arrived since dinner, and who would talk of nothing but the recentimprovements in instantaneous photography. He had not come to play inthe matches (he told me), but to obtain for Lord Amersteth such aseries of cricket photographs as had never been taken before; whetheras an amateur or a professional photographer I was unable to determine.I remember, however, seeking distraction in little bursts of resoluteattention to the conversation of this bore. And so at last the longordeal ended; glasses were emptied, men said good-night, and I followedRaffles to his room.

  "It's all up!" I gasped, as he turned up the gas and I shut the door."We're being watched. We've been followed down from town. There's adetective here on the spot!"

  "How do YOU know?" asked Raffles, turning upon me quite sharply, butwithout the least dismay. And I told him how I knew.

  "Of course," I added, "it was the fellow we saw in the inn thisafternoon."

  "The detective?" said Raffles. "Do you mean to say you don't know adetective when you see one, Bunny?"

  "If that wasn't the fellow, which is?"

  Raffles shook his head.

  "To think that you've been talking to him for the last hour in thebilliard-room and couldn't spot what he was!"

  "The Scotch photographer--"

  I paused aghast.

  "Scotch he is," said Raffles, "and photographer he may be. He is alsoInspector Mackenzie of Scotland Yard--the very man I sent the messageto that night last April. And you couldn't spot who he was in a wholehour! O Bunny, Bunny, you were never built for crime!"

  "But," said I, "if that was Mackenzie, who was the fellow you boltedfrom at Warbeck?"

  "The man he's watching."

  "But he's watching us!"

  Raffles looked at me with a pitying eye, and shook his head againbefore handing me his open cigarette-case.

  "I don't know whether smoking's forbidden in one's bedroom, but you'dbetter take one of these and stand tight, Bunny, because I'm going tosay something offensive."

  I helped myself with a laugh.

  "Say what you like, my dear fellow, if it really isn't you and I thatMackenzie's after."

  "Well, then, it isn't, and it couldn't be, and nobody but a born Bunnywould suppose for a moment that it was! Do you seriously think hewould sit there and knowingly watch his man playing pool under hisnose? Well, he might; he's a cool hand, Mackenzie; but I'm not coolenough to win a pool under such conditions. At least I don't think Iam; it would be interesting to see. The situation wasn't free fromstrain as it was, though I knew he wasn't thinking of us. Crowley toldme all about it after dinner, you see, and then I'd seen one of the menfor myself this afternoon. You thought it was a detective who made meturn tail at that inn. I really don't know why I didn't tell you atthe time, but it was just the opposite. That loud, red-faced brute isone of the cleverest thieves in London, and I once had a drink with himand our mutual fence. I was an Eastender from tongue to toe at themoment, but you will understand that I don't run unnecessary risks ofrecognition by a brute like that."

  "He's not alone, I hear."

  "By no means; there's at least one other man with him; and it'ssuggested that there may be an accomplice here in the house."

  "Did Lord Crowley tell you so?"

  "Crowley and the champagne between them. In confidence, of course,just as your girl told you; but even in confidence he never let onabout Mackenzie. He told me there was a detective in the background,but that was all. Putting him up as a guest is evidently their bigsecret, to be kept from the other guests because it might offend them,but more particularly from the servants whom he's here to watch.That's my reading of the situation, Bunny, and you will agree with methat it's infinitely more interesting than we could have imagined itwould prove."

  "But infinitely more difficult for us," said I, with a sigh ofpusillanimous relief. "Our hands are tied for this week, at allevents."

  "Not necessarily, my dear Bunny, though I admit that the chances areagainst us. Yet I'm not so sure of that either. There are all sortsof possibilities in these three-cornered combinations. Set A to watchB, and he won't have an eye left for C. That's the obvious theory, butthen Mackenzie's a very big A. I should be sorry to have any boodleabout me with that man in the house. Yet it would be great to nip inbetween A and B and score off them both at once! It would be worth arisk, Bunny, to do that; it would be worth risking something merely totake on old hands like B and his men at their own old game! Eh, Bunny?That would be something like a match. Gentlemen and Players at singlewicket, by Jove!"

  His eyes were brighter than I had known them for many a day. Theyshone with the perverted enthusiasm which was roused in him only by thecontemplation of some new audacity. He kicked off his shoes and beganpacing his room with noiseless rapidity; not since the night of the OldBohemian dinner to Reuben Rosenthall had Raffles exhibited suchexcitement in my presence; and I was not sorry at the moment to bereminded of the fiasco to which that banquet had been the prelude.

  "My dear A. J.," said I in his very own tone, "you're far too fond ofthe uphill game; you will eventually fall a victim to the sportingspirit and nothing else. Take a lesson from our last escape, and flylower as you value our skins. Study the house as much as you like, butdo--not--go and shove your head into Mackenzie's mouth!"

  My wealth of metaphor brought him to a stand-still, with his cigarettebetween his fingers and a grin beneath his shining eyes.

  "You're quite right, Bunny. I won't. I really won't. Yet--you sawold Lady Melrose's necklace? I've
been wanting it for years! But I'mnot going to play the fool; honor bright, I'm not; yet--by Jove!--toget to windward of the professors and Mackenzie too! It would be agreat game, Bunny, it would be a great game!"

  "Well, you mustn't play it this week."

  "No, no, I won't. But I wonder how the professors think of going towork? That's what one wants to know. I wonder if they've really gotan accomplice in the house? How I wish I knew their game! But it'sall right, Bunny; don't you be jealous; it shall be as you wish."

  And with that assurance I went off to my own room, and so to bed withan incredibly light heart. I had still enough of the honest man in meto welcome the postponement of our actual felonies, to dread theirperformance, to deplore their necessity: which is merely another way ofstating the too patent fact that I was an incomparably weaker man thanRaffles, while every whit as wicked.

  I had, however, one rather strong point. I possessed the gift ofdismissing unpleasant considerations, not intimately connected with thepassing moment, entirely from my mind. Through the exercise of thisfaculty I had lately been living my frivolous life in town with as muchignoble enjoyment as I had derived from it the year before; andsimilarly, here at Milchester, in the long-dreaded cricket-week, I hadafter all a quite excellent time.

  It is true that there were other factors in this pleasingdisappointment. In the first place, mirabile dictu, there were one ortwo even greater duffers than I on the Abbey cricket-field. Indeed,quite early in the week, when it was of most value to me, I gainedconsiderable kudos for a lucky catch; a ball, of which I had merelyheard the hum, stuck fast in my hand, which Lord Amersteth himselfgrasped in public congratulation. This happy accident was not to beundone even by me, and, as nothing succeeds like success, and theconstant encouragement of the one great cricketer on the field was initself an immense stimulus, I actually made a run or two in my verynext innings. Miss Melhuish said pretty things to me that night at thegreat ball in honor of Viscount Crowley's majority; she also told methat was the night on which the robbers would assuredly make theirraid, and was full of arch tremors when we sat out in the garden,though the entire premises were illuminated all night long. Meanwhilethe quiet Scotchman took countless photographs by day, which hedeveloped by night in a dark room admirably situated in the servants'part of the house; and it is my firm belief that only two of hisfellow-guests knew Mr. Clephane of Dundee for Inspector Mackenzie ofScotland Yard.

  The week was to end with a trumpery match on the Saturday, which two orthree of us intended abandoning early in order to return to town thatnight. The match, however, was never played. In the small hours ofthe Saturday morning a tragedy took place at Milchester Abbey.

  Let me tell of the thing as I saw and heard it. My room opened uponthe central gallery, and was not even on the same floor as that onwhich Raffles--and I think all the other men--were quartered. I hadbeen put, in fact, into the dressing-room of one of the grand suites,and my too near neighbors were old Lady Melrose and my host andhostess. Now, by the Friday evening the actual festivities were at anend, and, for the first time that week, I must have been sound asleepsince midnight, when all at once I found myself sitting up breathless.A heavy thud had come against my door, and now I heard hard breathingand the dull stamp of muffled feet.

  "I've got ye," muttered a voice. "It's no use struggling."

  It was the Scotch detective, and a new fear turned me cold. There wasno reply, but the hard breathing grew harder still, and the muffledfeet beat the floor to a quicker measure. In sudden panic I sprang outof bed and flung open my door. A light burnt low on the landing, and byit I could see Mackenzie swaying and staggering in a silent tussle withsome powerful adversary.

  "Hold this man!" he cried, as I appeared. "Hold the rascal!"

  But I stood like a fool until the pair of them backed into me, when,with a deep breath I flung myself on the fellow, whose face I had seenat last. He was one of the footmen who waited at table; and no soonerhad I pinned him than the detective loosed his hold.

  "Hang on to him," he cried. "There's more of 'em below."

  And he went leaping down the stairs, as other doors opened and LordAmersteth and his son appeared simultaneously in their pyjamas. Atthat my man ceased struggling; but I was still holding him when Crowleyturned up the gas.

  "What the devil's all this?" asked Lord Amersteth, blinking. "Who wasthat ran downstairs?"

  "Mac--Clephane!" said I hastily.

  "Aha!" said he, turning to the footman. "So you're the scoundrel, areyou? Well done! Well done! Where was he caught?"

  I had no idea.

  "Here's Lady Melrose's door open," said Crowley. "Lady Melrose! LadyMelrose!"

  "You forget she's deaf," said Lord Amersteth. "Ah! that'll be her maid."

  An inner door had opened; next instant there was a little shriek, and awhite figure gesticulated on the threshold.

  "Ou donc est l'ecrin de Madame la Marquise? La fenetre est ouverte.Il a disparu!"

  "Window open and jewel-case gone, by Jove!" exclaimed Lord Amersteth."Mais comment est Madame la Marquise? Est elle bien?"

  "Oui, milor. Elle dort."

  "Sleeps through it all," said my lord. "She's the only one, then!"

  "What made Mackenzie--Clephane--bolt?" young Crowley asked me.

  "Said there were more of them below."

  "Why the devil couldn't you tell us so before?" he cried, and wentleaping downstairs in his turn.

  He was followed by nearly all the cricketers, who now burst upon thescene in a body, only to desert it for the chase. Raffles was one ofthem, and I would gladly have been another, had not the footman chosenthis moment to hurl me from him, and to make a dash in the directionfrom which they had come. Lord Amersteth had him in an instant; butthe fellow fought desperately, and it took the two of us to drag himdownstairs, amid a terrified chorus from half-open doors. Eventuallywe handed him over to two other footmen who appeared with theirnightshirts tucked into their trousers, and my host was good enough tocompliment me as he led the way outside.

  "I thought I heard a shot," he added. "Didn't you?"

  "I thought I heard three."

  And out we dashed into the darkness.

  I remember how the gravel pricked my feet, how the wet grass numbedthem as we made for the sound of voices on an outlying lawn. So darkwas the night that we were in the cricketers' midst before we saw theshimmer of their pyjamas; and then Lord Amersteth almost trod onMackenzie as he lay prostrate in the dew.

  "Who's this?" he cried. "What on earth's happened?"

  "It's Clephane," said a man who knelt over him. "He's got a bullet inhim somewhere."

  "Is he alive?"

  "Barely."

  "Good God! Where's Crowley?"

  "Here I am," called a breathless voice. "It's no good, you fellows.There's nothing to show which way they've gone. Here's Raffles; he'schucked it, too." And they ran up panting.

  "Well, we've got one of them, at all events," muttered Lord Amersteth."The next thing is to get this poor fellow indoors. Take hisshoulders, somebody. Now his middle. Join hands under him. Alltogether, now; that's the way. Poor fellow! Poor fellow! His nameisn't Clephane at all. He's a Scotland Yard detective, down here forthese very villains!"

  Raffles was the first to express surprise; but he had also been thefirst to raise the wounded man. Nor had any of them a stronger or moretender hand in the slow procession to the house.

  In a little we had the senseless man stretched on a sofa in thelibrary. And there, with ice on his wound and brandy in his throat,his eyes opened and his lips moved.

  Lord Amersteth bent down to catch the words.

  "Yes, yes," said he; "we've got one of them safe and sound. The bruteyou collared upstairs." Lord Amersteth bent lower. "By Jove! Loweredthe jewel-case out of the window, did he? And they've got clean awaywith it! Well, well! I only hope we'll be able to pull this goodfellow through. He's off again."

  An hour passed: the sun
was rising.

  It found a dozen young fellows on the settees in the billiard-room,drinking whiskey and soda-water in their overcoats and pyjamas, andstill talking excitedly in one breath. A time-table was being passedfrom hand to hand: the doctor was still in the library. At last thedoor opened, and Lord Amersteth put in his head.

  "It isn't hopeless," said he, "but it's bad enough. There'll be nocricket to-day."

  Another hour, and most of us were on our way to catch the early train;between us we filled a compartment almost to suffocation. And still wetalked all together of the night's event; and still I was a little heroin my way, for having kept my hold of the one ruffian who had beentaken; and my gratification was subtle and intense. Raffles watched meunder lowered lids. Not a word had we had together; not a word did wehave until we had left the others at Paddington, and were skimmingthrough the streets in a hansom with noiseless tires and a tinklingbell.

  "Well, Bunny," said Raffles, "so the professors have it, eh?"

  "Yes," said I. "And I'm jolly glad!"

  "That poor Mackenzie has a ball in his chest?"

  "That you and I have been on the decent side for once."

  He shrugged his shoulders.

  "You're hopeless, Bunny, quite hopeless! I take it you wouldn't haverefused your share if the boodle had fallen to us? Yet you positivelyenjoy coming off second best--for the second time running! I confess,however, that the professors' methods were full of interest to me. I,for one, have probably gained as much in experience as I have lost inother things. That lowering the jewel-case out of the window was avery simple and effective expedient; two of them had been waiting belowfor it for hours."

  "How do you know?" I asked.

  "I saw them from my own window, which was just above the dear oldlady's. I was fretting for that necklace in particular, when I went upto turn in for our last night--and I happened to look out of my window.In point of fact, I wanted to see whether the one below was open, andwhether there was the slightest chance of working the oracle with mysheet for a rope. Of course I took the precaution of turning my lightoff first, and it was a lucky thing I did. I saw the pros. right downbelow, and they never saw me. I saw a little tiny luminous disk justfor an instant, and then again for an instant a few minutes later. Ofcourse I knew what it was, for I have my own watch-dial daubed withluminous paint; it makes a lantern of sorts when you can get no better.But these fellows were not using theirs as a lantern. They were underthe old lady's window. They were watching the time. The whole thingwas arranged with their accomplice inside. Set a thief to catch athief: in a minute I had guessed what the whole thing proved to be."

  "And you did nothing!" I exclaimed.

  "On the contrary, I went downstairs and straight into Lady Melrose'sroom--"

  "You did?"

  "Without a moment's hesitation. To save her jewels. And I wasprepared to yell as much into her ear-trumpet for all the house tohear. But the dear lady is too deaf and too fond of her dinner to wakeeasily."

  "Well?"

  "She didn't stir."

  "And yet you allowed the professors, as you call them, to take herjewels, case and all!"

  "All but this," said Raffles, thrusting his fist into my lap. "I wouldhave shown it you before, but really, old fellow, your face all day hasbeen worth a fortune to the firm!"

  And he opened his fist, to shut it next instant on the bunch ofdiamonds and of sapphires that I had last seen encircling the neck ofLady Melrose.